


They Dance Across the Darling Rooftop Wreck

by KatcadeCascade (DreamWings231)



Category: RWBY
Genre: And yet, Body Insecurities, Developing Relationship, Dresses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Faunus Qrow Branwen, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Plot is vaguely explained, atlas ball, ignoring canon to write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23508679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamWings231/pseuds/KatcadeCascade
Summary: An Atlas ball isn't something Qrow is prepared for. He wants to go to spend time with his kids and Clover, really he does.It's just that none of his wardrobe is fancy-schmancy due to the fact all his shirts have an opening cut in the back.Cause yah know, wings and all that jazz.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Lie Ren/Nora Valkyrie, Marrow Amin/Jaune Arc, Marrow Amin/May Marigold, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Robyn Hill/Fiona Thyme, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 17
Kudos: 135





	1. everything you do

**Author's Note:**

> for some reason i am late for this fair game prompt
> 
> anyway, i'm begging you all to listen to Fair by The Amazing Devil, like it just fills my soul up with so much love!

When James announced that they’ll have a ball to celebrate the Amity satellite’s completion, Qrow honestly thought he was joking. But no, good old Jimmy doesn’t joke about coordinated events at Atlas’ elite standards.

The kids’ high enthusiasm and giddiness is expected, immediately making plans to get new outfits but Qrow can’t quite share their feelings.

He’s a bit of a mess of anxiety as he tries to move away from his kids’ happiness filling up their lounge and media room. The furthest couch seemed like the best place for Qrow to just huddle into his wings and quietly sip his tea, wallow in a festering scramble of thoughts believing that this dance will be terrible idea for him.

Before more misery could snatch his will, the couch’s weight dipped as Clover sits next to him.

“Hey,” he begins gently, “I don’t think your tea’s doing its job right. May I?”

Already he reads Qrow too well, something that Qrow actually appreciates. Qrow sets his mug on the side table and scoots closer to his boyfriend, arranging his large wings carefully. Much to his embarrassment, Clover ends up wrapping his muscly arms around Qrow’s small waist to bring him into his lap.

After a bit of shifting to get comfortable, Qrow leans his head against Clover’s face.

“What’s wrong, baby bird?”

“I don’t really _do_ dances or balls,” he admits.

Sure there were a few Beacon dances but back then his wings were smaller, easier to manage under his cape but unfortunately these feathery appendages decided to get bigger. It was hard enough to constantly alter his shirts to have a gap for his wing bones back then.

His huntsman outfits were always specially tailored to protect his back while also leaving an opening for his wings. Yet that detail is also prioritized for the sake of him being in the field. Off missions, it was always up to Qrow to patch up casual shirts or go bare.

Since this is Solitas, the second option isn’t recommended. Well only for Clover in their bedroom but aside from that Qrow’s been wearing shirts where the buttons line up his back. It’s simple and practical but not at all the standard for a ballroom.

So it’s understandable that Qrow does not own any sort of fancy ass outfit that takes account of his faunus traits.

Black feathers ruffle at the thought, basically projecting the root of his issues to Clover.

“Dances can be lame,” Clover assured. His warm hands soothing Qrow’s lower back. “Don’t tell James but the last party he hosted wasn’t too smooth.”

“Then it’s a good thing that Weiss and Winter are in charge,” he mumbled, letting himself relax into Clover. His wings fold inwards, reminding Qrow of what’s been clouding his mind. “I don’t really have anything to wear compared to whatever they got.”

One of Clover’s hands travels up to trace at Qrow’s jaw, “You don’t have to force yourself to go.”

“I know but,” his eyes flicker over to the kids and their commotion, “I want to be there with them. It would be nice right?”

His hesitation rang out with the tiny budding hope inside of him. For years he missed out on Ruby’s and Yang’s childhood for missions or hangovers. Now with a few months of sobriety under his belt, Qrow has a better conscious to make efforts in spending time with his family.

He prefers video game nights or cooking lessons over ballroom dances but still, it sounds like a good time.

“It will be,” Clover promises, “and maybe I can even sweep you off your feet.”

Qrow flicks Clover’ ear and tried not to scoff or laugh, “In your dreams, lucky charm.”

That only makes Clover hold onto Qrow tighter, brushing his fingers through his dark hair, “Too late, you’ve already stepped out of my dreams and into my life. No way am I letting you go.”

The way Clover trails kisses down Qrow’s neck sends his feather fluffing uncontrollably.

“Sap,” he huffed before digging his hands underneath Clover’s shirt, wandering his nails across the taunt skin.

Right as Qrow kissed the crown of soft brown hair, one of his kids shout, “Really? Right in front of my salad?”

“Nora, this is my salad.”

Nora rephrases, “Really? Right in front of Blake’s salad?”

“Alright we get it,” Clover got a secure grip on Qrow’s back and his thigh before he stood up.

Qrow had to loop his arms around Clover’s neck and warp his legs around the torso too. “Geeze, give me a warning, Cloves.”

His wings flapped once to regain balance but Clover had practice on picking up Qrow by now.

Clover winked, “I told you, Qrow, I wanted to sweep you off your feet.” As he carefully walks them out, Clover whispers to his ear, “I also look forward to dancing with you too.”

Dancing, right, that’s something that happens in a ballroom.

Oh gods, what has Qrow signed up for?

That night he decides to procrastinate on thinking on solutions or dwelling on failure. Clover is a helpful distraction, the best by how tenderly he holds Qrow, how intense his lips and devoted words are. It’s all something Qrow never thought he’d ever want, passion without consequences, commitment without pity.

It’s just Qrow and Clover and he will do whatever he can to keep each other.

And that includes going to some dance. 

He still doesn’t have a plan on what to wear so Qrow doesn’t know what to think when Marrow shows up at his door later in the week and announces, “Come on Qrow, we’re going shopping.”

There was no time to argue because Marrow was giving him puppy dog eyes.

It wasn’t as effective as Ruby’s but the results were the same. Qrow was helpless against bright eyed kiddos.

Marrow takes them down the humble business streets of midtown Mantle. The entire place has been newly constructed after the Grimm invasions that preluded the elections.

Long story short and one corrupted elitist CEO arrested later, Robyn got her council seat and finally got a real talk with James to truly fix the issues between Mantle and Atlas. Sure there’s still a shit ton of problems that can’t be solved in a few days but apparently this ball is to celebrate the achievements so far.

Qrow still can’t imagine Robyn agreeing to this. Flaunting money doesn’t seem like her style. Then again, it’s a party where the doors of Atlas academy are open to everyone in Atlas and Mantle. Maybe this is more than a dance, a peace offering or proof that things are changing here for the better.

Perhaps Qrow’s issues are minor to it all, that his silly worries are nothing to the whole political agenda or whatever.

“Are you okay?” He snaps his faraway attention off of the sidewalk to Marrow. The younger man gives him a nostalgic smile, “Your wings are drooping.”

Just like with Marrow, Qrow’s faunus traits would often emote what he’s really feeling. He quickly flexes his shoulder blades, fixing the wings back up.

“I’m just…” Qrow doesn’t want to admit something so blatantly obvious but he has to ask, “This ball is going to be a big deal, isn’t it?”

Marrow blinks at Qrow like he’s dumb, “Well duh, everyone wants it to be real.”

Now that wording makes Qrow even more confuse, “Be real?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “We all need something big and finite to finally get that this is really happening.”

“Okay, so this dance is big and finite.”

Marrow rolls his eyes, “Atlas loves a good party.”

“You’re right about that.”

The dog faunus huffed, “It was the best way to supplicate the masses, yah know?” Something serious and thoughtful eludes from Marrow, his past sarcasm or immaturity gone as he says, “Smile big for the cameras, really show off that things are alright now and that we won’t fall apart because we are finally in a better place than ever before.”

Qrow’s lack of response makes the silence deflate whatever energy Marrow had just now. He buries his face in his scarf out of embarrassment for venting.

“Wow kid,” Qrow manages to say, “You’re right.”

A smile peeks out of the brown scarf, “I know.”

“Were you always so…”

“Sage like? Wise? Academic?” All suggestions and baits for his ego by the looks of his wagging tail.

“I was going to say worried,” Qrow shrugged, “but yeah, all those things too.”

Marrow scratched his neck, “I try not to worry too much but it comes with this life doesn’t it?”

He’s not talking about his career, Qrow instantly knows.

Life as a faunus in a high end society is nothing to brag or shrug about. Qrow only got his popularity through his huntsman skill and even his teaching job if that’s not hard to believe. But that was in Beacon where Qrow had his sister and friends and even Ozpin.

Here in both Atlas and Mantle, it must have been a wild story for Marrow to become an Ace Operative. Constantly observed in and out of the uniform and with a faunus trait he can’t hide, Marrow must have dealt with a lot of scrutiny in his years.

Unintentionally or not, Qrow walked Marrow’s pace and brushed his wing against Marrow’s back. Where words fail him, he hopes that this gesture would be a comfort.

Marrow sends him a wryly grin, far too similar to Clover’s. “Huh, you do have your cute, touching moments.”

A wing flap aimed at Marrow’s head.

“Hey!”

“Oops.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Marrow waves off, “We’re here.”

They stopped at a store front decorated with reds, whites, and greens. On the glass windows reads the shop’s name, _Northern Hyrule Designs and Seamstress._

Upon entering with the door’s little bell, Qrow tries not to groan at the sight of a fancy dress and suit shop. One side has racks of dresses, the other suits, the back is an entrance way leading to the dressing rooms where Qrow sees a three paneled mirror in the back. But smacked dap in the middle of the shop is a raised circle platform he hopes he doesn’t end up modeling on.

So far there’s only one employee in attendant or behind a door labeled for the staff.

“Hello, welcome!” A woman behind the front register greets them. She waves a clawed hand, sharp black talons matching the feathers blanketing her forearm. Near her elbow, the feathers have an orange hue.

“Hi Pito,” Marrow greeted and then whipped his head around the room searchingly, “Is Maddie here?”

As if summoned, a blur of pink and black jumps out of a circular clothing rack to latch onto Marrow’s leg, tugging at his winter coat.

“Mar!” A little girl chirped, her shiny grey beak nuzzles against the young man’s knee.

“Hey, Maddie,” he pats her brown hair, careful for the pink bow framing her face. It’s pretty cute how it matches her dress. “You dressed up for a party?”

“No, felt like being pretty in pink,” she trills and easily slides her hands into Marrow’s big ones. The kid has no personal space as she stands on his boots to physically walk her over to Pito.

The woman has a loving and aspirating look that only a parent has, something too relatable to Qrow, as she claps her talons, “Madeleine, you can’t tackle all of our clients.”

Maddie’s shoulders slumped, “Okay Mama.” She then peers up to Qrow and shouts, “Uncle!”

An undignified squawk betrays his composure while Marrow laughs sharply.

“Hah,” Pito smiles reassuringly, “my brother also has wings, greyer but that doesn’t stop Madeleine now does it?”

“Uncle,” she insists again, moving over with grabby hands but her mother guides her off that path, likely used to this habit.

“Maddie, sometimes you can’t surprise someone with a hug,” Pito lectured. She turns to Qrow with an offered claw, “Hi, I’m Pitohui and this is my daughter, Madeleine.”

“I’m Qrow,” he shakes her hand, “so, um, I’m guessing Marrow brought me here for your expertise?”

Qrow glanced over to some of the models at the window, noticing all had a defining faunus trait and wore a classy outfit.

The seamstress begins to explain, “I design and make alternations for outfits according to any faunus’ needs. Personally half of my business profits from my brother’s vanity but I make it a goal to make every faunus in Mantle feel as glamorous as any other Atlesian.”

“That’s a nice goal.”

Madeleine exclaims, “My goal is to sing like my uncle!” She looks to Qrow expectedly, batting her eyelashes.

Geeze, too many kids are good at melting his heart.

Qrow quirks a smile, “I’m sure you’ll be the best singer in Atlas.”

“I’m telling Weiss you said that,” Marrow teased.

“She won’t believe you.”

“So,” Pito cuts in, as a parental authority tends to do before two idiots start bicker, “what are you both looking for?”

“We’re here to get some new suits,” Marrow answered, already sliding hangers on their racks to examine the suits.

“Speak for yourself,” Qrow said, “I think a dress would be better for me.”

The younger man stared at him for a few seconds before confirming, “You’re not joking.”

“Nope.”

“In that case,” Pito has a kind smile as she leads Qrow to a rack of dresses, “let’s get started.”

They spend a good while looking around. Qrow would occasionally look at the suits but truly a dress is more to his preferences. Marrow sticks to the suits but sometimes Qrow would catch him peeking over to the prettiness of the skirts.

Eventually it occurs to Qrow that some of these clothes are pricy. Right, this is a business aimed towards fancy events.

“How are we paying for this?” He asks and ties to do math in his head regarding his paychecks.

“Oh right, the General saw me this morning,” Marrow reaches into his coat and hands Qrow an envelope. “This is for you.”

Flipping it open, what falls into his hand is a credit card under James’ name.

Huh, he could get used to getting spoiled with money but right now he’s not. Qrow was never a big spender, only got the bare necessities since he had to travel light. The tiny card feels too golden and clean to be in his hands.

“Don’t worry,” Pito winks at him, “I’ll give you a family discount.”

“Uncle!” Agreed Madeleine.

The little bird girl has an armful of suits and takes Marrow’s hand to pull him to the dressing rooms. That just leaves him and Pito to talk shop.

It’s kind of obvious that whatever Qrow’s going to wear it’s gonna be backless.

Cause yah know, wings and that jazz.

Plus, Qrow looks _good_ in a backless dress.

He tries on a few different styles, from gown-like to modern. Because of he’s seeking professional help Pito had him on the raised platform and rolled over a full body mirror.

With each dress, Qrow gets more and more comfortable to seeing his reflection.

If clothes make the person then Qrow is practically ethereal and awing even to his own eyes. The skirts he wore in Beacon are child’s play compared to Pitohui’s designs. Each one is soothing to the touch, quickly adjusted for his wings and all are beautiful in their own right.

This current dress in particular is a bright shade of red that goes more into Ruby’s palette than Qrow’s but all over there are black threads weaving in looping designs into the fabric.

The collar is snug against his neck, thankfully not itchy like he hoped. The material is soft to the touch, connected to the collar and it dips over his chest in a pentagon-like shape. It wraps around his back to tie a large ribbon underneath the base of his wings. As for the skirt part, it’s a slanted cut to show off his left leg thigh and its ends nearly touch the floor.

Half of his mind is wondering what’s gonna be Clover’s reaction. Likely praises and kisses. Okay now more than half of his mind is thinking about that.

Qrow is unintentionally successful at making his cheeks match the dress.

“Ooh,” Pito cooed, “I take it that this is the one?”

He finds himself nodding before a chance to reconsider but he doesn’t dare to have second thoughts.

“Well,” he ends up saying, holding up the tail end the dress, “Can you shorten this part? I don’t want to risk tripping over it.”

“No problem.”

Marrow exits a dressing stall, a flattering blue suit vest emphases his waistline but he keeps fixing the rolled sleeves of the white undercoat.

He hums an impressed tune to the bird, “Wow, I honestly didn’t think you’d look good in a dress. I just never thought it would work.”

“What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t make you learn new things,” Qrow said. He studied his figure in the mirror as Pito worked with a measuring tape for the skirt.

The red dress shows off his silhouette, curves and dips in a smooth wave that he vaguely acknowledged with his regular clothes. His muscles add to his features, a strong contrast that brings a depth of both beauty and power in him.

His wings flair out and he can’t help but shift around, see the different angles on how the large things work with the dress. Everything looks too good to be true, elegant even or graceful. Qrow spent years not caring too much on his appearance, just shucked on whatever shirt he could around his wings. Now in this dress, it feels more than okay around his wings because it was literally made with people like him in mind.

It’s kind of refreshing to dress up like this.

Marrow’s curious gaze gets Qrow thinking out loud, “Wait, did the others not tell you about when Jaune wore a dress?”

Blinking, Marrow asked, “He did what?”

“Yeah, did it to cheer up a friend.” That’s one way to describe a memory coated with both joy and grief.

“Huh.”

A dazed off look enters Marrow’s eyes until they wander off to the dress section. His hesitant feet leads them over to the frills and silk and lace. Little Madeleine is instantly by his side, piling dresses in her arms. Qrow picks up the wary curiosity in the unsure movement in the younger man.

Taking a page out of Clover’s book, he says, “You don’t have to force yourself to do this, Marrow.”

“I’m just trying stuff out,” Marrow said, more for himself.

The guy does look a little clueless. After all, simply picking a dress and wearing it is not as easy as it sounds. For skirts, that’s only a matter of hipbones or whatever. As for dresses, Qrow knows from experience how most dresses are designed for slimmer bodies or narrow shoulders.

Thankfully Madeleine is here with a keen eye. She double-checks on the sizes for each dress from hem line to sleeves before handing Marrow the appropriate size. The kid gives him a thumb’s up in approval, assuring Marrow as he goes back to the dressing stall.

“Maddie knows what she’s doing,” Pito proudly states, “she loves helping everyone with their dresses.”

“So I’m not the only guy around here that likes dressing up?” Qrow meant for a lighthearted tone but apparently Pito got a faraway look as she smiled at the sight of her daughter reorganizing the clothing racks.

She needed a stepstool but nonetheless, Madeleine worked diligently. 

“My little girl wants to make the world be as pretty as she believes it to be,” Pito said.

There was a small hitch in her throat at the ‘little girl’ part. It paired with the watery eyes Pito attempted to brush away.

“She sounds a lot like my kids,” Qrow shared.

The mother sends him a knowing look, something that Summer once had when the girls were cradled in her arms. That sweet security and peace and Qrow is slowly learning that feeling too.

They wrap things up. Qrow returns to his regular clothes, an overcoat where the entire back section is gone so that his wings don’t have any troubles.

Marrow hasn’t come out when Qrow finishes paying. Pito has a worried look but Qrow gestures to let him handle this.

Knocking gently on the door, he calls out, “Hey, Marrow, how’re you doing?”

“Okay,” is said too fast, too caught off guard but Marrow tries again with a calmer tone, “They actually do fit, well most of them I think but…”

“I’m not asking about the clothes, kid.”

There a pause and while Qrow is worrying, he also realizes that _oh._

So this is what’s like to be Clover in these conversations. But Marrow is not Qrow. Perhaps they have similar experiences, but the dog faunus eventually opens up.

“I’ve never really wore anything that was for me. It was always a uniform and that was safe because at first glance, I belonged to a group.”

“I get that, kid,” he said, “Blake too.”

“I know that,” Marrow’s voice is a bit muffled but a twinge of exhaustion is there. “I just want to be confident in all of me. Like how you wear dresses or like how Blake cut her hair.” His words get softer but they make it through the door, “And May… You’re all so proud being yourselves.”

Again, words fail him. Qrow has those old gut instincts to argue against Marrow’s claim. The rooted knots in his stomach would actually hurt at someone else’s belief in him.

But those tangled threads aren’t holding strength as Qrow thinks of his pride.

Sure he has pride in his skill, in earning the two month chip of his sobriety, and most of all, pride in his kids.

As for self-pride, huh, is that’s what Qrow’s been walking with? Has that been intertwining with his acceptance and eagerness to be happy again?

Unfortunately now is not the time to have a revelation or self-reflection, Marrow is spiraling and Qrow doesn’t have much familiarity on this. He always thought as Marrow as a faunus with a strong sense of identity but Qrow should’ve know better, after all he hid behind thinly veiled self-loathing thoughts.

Qrow can’t get another word out, any idea of comforting Marrow is unsure when he hears the shop’s entrance chime.

It must be luck, good or bad, it doesn’t matter because guess who’s here.

Fiona Thyme is occupied with talking to Pito while May Marigold meets his gaze.

‘And May,’ Marrow had trailed off with, as if she’s the most important person to think about.

Without a second thought, Qrow walks up to the ladies.

“Hi Qrow,” begins Fiona. She’s the most familiar with him sense they’re the ones who had to keep Robyn and Clover from sassing each other when they meet up. She tilts her head, reading into his quiet turmoil, “Is something wrong?”

His frown isn’t reassuring as he turns to May, “Marrow’s in there.”

All he did was point to the dressing rooms and then May was already speed walking there, a panicked and vulnerable expression on her face.

The shop may have that idle instrumental music playing lowly in the background but he hears May gently say, “Marrow, it’s me, will you let me in?”

Five seconds of stasis and holding their breaths, the door opens and May is let in.

Qrow usually doesn’t look too deep into his kids’ relationships, usually because none of them are subtle about their fluffy affection or bad pickup lines. But for Marrow, he was Clover’s kid so Qrow had that innate urge to get on the good side of his boyfriend’s friends.

The other Ace Operatives still claim their acquaintances at best but that’s an utterly proven wrong at the end of the day. Each one of them cares about Clover in their own way and expressed their varying degree of enthusiasm and care for the Beacon hunters.

As for the rookie, Marrow got quite comfortable with Qrow’s flock, specifically Jaune. That is what Qrow is trying to wrap up to, Marrow and Jaune had that coffee thing and then suddenly Marrow’s joining them in game night.

So in shorter words, Qrow cares about Marrow but also wondering what the kid’s gonna do about his feelings for two people. Well according to Fiona who’s here to pick up her dress, the Happy Huntresses are all going so Marrow’s gonna be in a room with two of his crushes.

Just a normal day in Atlas.

They spend an hour longer in the shop helping Marrow decide on an outfit. Well, mostly May and Madeleine because the dog faunus trusts them. Although if Qrow guided the little bird away from the red dresses then that’s the least he can do to prevent Jaune from getting bittersweet flashbacks.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, Jaune wouldn’t be the only one reminiscing about the fallen warrior of reds and golds. 

By the time they finish shopping and thanking James’ credit card that either May or Fiona tried to steal, the two huntsmen were back at the academy as the sun sinks into the horizon. 

Marrow wasn’t too elated to hang out with anyone so he retreated to his room hugging his garment bag tightly, a relieved smile on his face.

That leaves Qrow to handle his usual amount of rambunctious kids who demand his attention.

The moment they spy the garment bag carefully tucked under his arm, they turned into vultures.

“You got an outfit? Put it on, put it on!” Ruby demanded, bouncing in her feet and just like Madeleine, made grabby hands at him.

Weiss, the opposite of childish joy, pouted, “We were all supposed to go to my tailor together!”

“But we did that other day,” Jaune complained, slumped over the couch with Nora. He’s on warren duty, keeping the thunderbolt out of the kitchen while Ren and Oscar prepare dinner.

“It’s called final fittings.”

“Is that what you call taking three hours making sure your gear is lit free?” Blake teases.

Her eyes are still glued to her book as her fuzzy socked feet are swung over the couch’s arm. Her toes tap the air, meaning she’s at a good part. Blake’s head is rested upon Yang’s lap whose idly combing her hands in the cat faunus’ hair while Yang watches the superhero movie marathon Jaune has been raving about.

“Ha, nice one,” Nora grinned and while Jaune is snickering, she tries to escape his hold.

Nora could easily threaten to hurt Jaune or actually hurt Jaune but she loves handholding too much to do that to her leader. That and Qrow has given her the parental disapproving lecture about throwing threats around.

So far her escape plan is to slitter away but from pure instinct or insight, Ren looks away from his work to just stare at her with a raised brow. Nora sinks back to the couch, just in time to watch the superhero with slow motion powers use his powers for the greater good.

“Food’s almost ready,” Oscar announces and turns off the stove, “I don’t think Qrow should risk his suit against the curry.”

“Dress actually,” he corrects, walking pass his starry eyed niece and his grinning niece and a bunch of other children that have decided to look up to him. “You four,” he points to the couch potatoes, “go set the table.”

He feels a little vindicated when they listen.

Only Weiss and Ruby follow him to his room, the one originally assigned to him but some of his clothes have migrated to Clover’s room. Still, it’s nice to have a place close to the kids. It was also a hassle to be too near to the kids’ dorms simply due to how they are in the mornings.

The two coffee machines and one tea kettle are not enough for the eight youths.

Qrow gently places the dress bag in his closet, Weiss and Ruby instantly drawn to it while he searches for some more casual clothes. Look, Nora can be a messy eater, there’s a good chance curry will be flying thanks to his semblance.

When he’s trying to find a matching set of socks, a futile mission, he hears his niece and her girlfriend unzip the bag and start to wow about his dress.

“It’s so pretty!”

“Definitely a lot more tasteful than I expected.”

“You’re just jealous that your dress doesn’t have this much detail.”

“I’ve worn countless of dresses, Ruby, and a good number of them are up to this quality. I am not jealous.”

“Nice to hear your approval then,” Qrow said. Weiss quirks a smile at him, glad that her intentions are known. “Hey, can you help me with this thing too?”

His left wing hasn’t been feeling great against the cold evening air. Maybe a feather or two were misaligned during his dressing and left a patch of rough wing skin exposed to the chills. The wing wasn’t cooperating when he tried to remove his coat.

“Of course,” Weiss stepped behind him. The first time he asked for her help, her hands shook a bit, too nervous to mess up but determined to do the task. This time there isn’t any jitter or nerves, just helpful and careful.

Once the heavy coat is off, he reaches over to find the ruffled feathers.

“Thanks,” he said to the ice princess who ironically has a soft expression that’s melting his heart.

“You’re welcome, Uncle Qrow,” Weiss replies.

A high pitch squeal exits Ruby’s mouth despite the fact that her hands are clasped over, like that can tamper her excitement. The giddiness radiating off of her matches the squishiness in Qrow.

That squishy feeling always happens whenever his kids, aside from Yang and Ruby, call him uncle.

The first time each one said it was a total shock and it’s even more heartfelt knowing they still continue to do so.

Weiss rolls her eyes, like that can downplay the emotional impact she caused to the family.

“Come on Ruby,” she reminds, “there’s dinner waiting for us.”

She grabs Ruby’s hand and whisks her away. Ruby gives her uncle a parting thumb’s up.

“Clover’s going to love it!”

…oh boy, Qrow needs to mentally prepare for that.


	2. fated thought of you

So over the course of days leading up the ball, Qrow kept his outfit a secret. Initially he was just going to be honest and casual about it but his kids decided for him to make it a surprise.

Why?

For dramatic tension, Nora claimed.

For sexual tension, Yang unnecessarily added.

To mess with Clover, Marrow agreed.

All reasons thoroughly convinced Qrow, not that he’ll tell Yang that. She doesn’t need that much power.

A typical fashion montage happens as the ball approaches.

Winter actually helps Ruby and the boys be fitted for their suits. Somehow Oscar roped James to join them. Qrow snickered when Ruby recounted the tale of Jaune constantly messing up on his bow tie only to be saved by the general.

Meanwhile for team combat dresses, Weiss was more in charge of Nora during the whole ordeal since the Mistral girl attempted to get the puffiest dress imaginable even though she couldn’t walk or breathe in it.

Initially Qrow invited Marrow too but he turned them down. Marrow did plan on asking either Weiss or Blake for makeup tips. Yang already called dips on doing Qrow’s and Ruby’s faces. Ren is in charge of making his team look presentable in whatever color palette Nora chose for them.

Qrow can’t remember the last time he divulged in something like this. Sure before he spent some hours just braiding the kids’ hair but that wasn’t for some big fancy ball. That was casual and familiar, just easy going stuff like game night (okay everyone was competitive and aggressive there), movie night, training, or teaching his old engineering courses.

No everyone’s spirits are rocketing at the hype that’s always involved with balls.

Even Qrow is getting a little giddy about it. Now that he got his outfit, his kids’ eagerness, and Clover, Qrow actually feels excited about it all.

Whenever Clover points that out, Qrow doesn’t try to hide his smile.

Instead he winks at Clover to wait for his surprise.

(Damnit, Yang was right about the sexual tension, this is fun and agonizing)

Qrow had freaking dreams of Clover running his hands across his thighs, the fabric of the dress making his skin light up on fire, sensitive and crazing for Clover’s touch. Any and all kisses share would create stars in Qrow’s bones, burning bright and fast and just cling onto his soul.

But enough about his dreams, those are nice and all but Qrow’s life is better.

As time marches on, the night of the ball is here and yet the minutes the spent getting ready feels too fast and slow. Of course it’s a bit hectic with Ren and Yang fighting for the sole hair detangler, Nora trying to convince Oscar to paint his nails, Jaune bargaining with Ruby to use her hair gel but only accepts fresh cookies as payment, and Blake is stopping Weiss from drinking her eighth cup of coffee.

So yeah, all is normal in Qrow’s flock.

That means when it is one minute before they should all be leaving everyone is miraculously glammed up from their heels or spiffy boots to their slick and combed hair.

As his date, Clover had to pass through a barrier of hyperactive teenagers to reach Qrow.

Once the vague threats and teasing is done, Clover took Qrow’s hand and pressed his lips at cusps of his ear.

“You’re marvelous, Qrow,” his gentle, earnest praise had Qrow squeezing their hands. The genuine awe and wonderment in Clover’s teal eyes sends his feathers fluffing up.

It was a bit of a struggle to speak as Qrow tears his gaze away to take in Clover’s outfit, “And you look… Huh?”

Qrow had the luxury to see Clover’s casual clothes, and even what lies underneath too, to understand that his standard military presence it kind of a bait and switch.

Oh gods if Clover heard that pun Qrow is gonna die of agony. He already did die a little bit the first time Clover took him on a fishing trip and the man couldn’t for the life of him stop making fish related puns.

Anyway, Qrow hasn’t gotten the opportunity to see his boyfriend in formal wear so he honestly had low expectation.

Clover could’ve worn an alteration of his uniform or something else that’s military like or wear a suit like the rest of the Atlas elite.

No instead Clover is decked out in a fully floral suit.

Thank the gods above it wasn’t clover prints, is what everyone who knows Clover is thinking.

But Qrow isn’t a part of that, no he’s too caught into the details of the type of flowers.

Red and pink azaleas blooming over a soft, pastel green fabric, a nostalgic sight that reminds Qrow of the Mistral wildlands he grew up in.

Azaleas are known to bring good luck but also a death trap for its poison. They were Qrow’s favorites but always had to stay away from them, too beautiful and too dangerous.

Now Qrow traces the delicate designs across Clover’s arm. Up close he also sees ocean like patterns imprinted into Clover’s white undervest with clovers as the buttons. Yep, he should’ve expected that Clover couldn’t resist that.

“My favorite flowers,” Qrow mumbled in a slight daze. He drags his eye back up to teal, “It looks good on you.”

Clover lays his other hand on top Qrow’s hip, the warm seeping through the red dress to buzz his skin. Qrow’s own hands glide up Clover’s chest, still memorized by the pinks and greens, to carefully pull Clover down by the white shirt lapels for a deep kiss.

He ignores the cooing or mock groans from the kids. A loud familiar snicker does have Qrow snapping away from his boyfriend to glare at the other adult currently recording the whole thing.

“You better delete that Tai!”

The grinning father is smartly behind his daughters, “No way, this is going into the family album.”

Right as Qrow’s wings puff up, a warning that he’s about to just launch himself at his annoying brother, Weiss steps in to remind them, “Okay, enough of this, we need to get the ballroom already!”

No argument there.

Okay that’s a lie, Qrow and Tai bickered back and forth but that’s normal.

Once the battles were over and the satellite was declared complete, Tai was one of the first people on a plane to Atlas. The moment Taiyang reunited with his family, there was a lot of tears, hugs, and a few yelling matches all around.

For Ruby running off, for Qrow not checking in, for Yang demanding answers, and for Tai not being there, all said in the heat of the moment. It was impulsive and reckless and hurtful and acceptance that they’re all a bit dysfunctional and have no clear idea on how to address those facts.

Still bit by bit, hug by hug, the four of them got a breath of fresh air and work through their open wounds. Sure maybe a few things were glossed over, haven’t healed up yet, but for tonight it was an unspoken agreement to just let go and have fun.

The designated Atlas Academy Ballroom was apparently the break everyone needed, a clear celebration that after everything Remnant has been through, it was time to party.

Then again, this is Atlas so it’s not a rave that Yang would wish for.

Instead the giant, expansive room is decorated in high fashion and elegance. Circular dining tables draped in the academy’s colors, all framed around a wide and polished dancefloor, and near the back is a stage with an orchestral pit cued up with lovely classical melodies.

All in all, well done Winter and Weiss Schnee.

The attending guests were a variety of young and old, of Mantle and Atlas. The kids are most recognized by the Atlas students and even other citizens too, greeted in high regard. Qrow’s wings were held a little higher once he noticed a distinct lack of Atlesian snobs who loved to call him Ironwood’s charity case.

There’s an opening ceremony introduced by General Ironwood and Councilwoman Hill. Qrow would be paying attention to it but he and Tai had to stop Nora from rushing over to the buffet table. So just imagine Jimmy saying something optimistic and Robyn adding her own hopes so that James doesn’t attempt an outro.

As the Protector of Mantle, Penny was up there too. She spoken her heart into a speech about what it means to have a soul, how important it is to share it with the people you love.

And with that, Penny declares the dancefloor open.

One of the musicians, a bird faunus with grey wings, takes the main mic and begins strumming his guitar. The orchestral flow their sound behind the main singer, attracting couples to the dance floor.

The expected couples move to the dancefloor and Qrow patiently watches with a certain type of softness Tai would get when Yang and Ruby did something stupid and adorable.

Speaking of one niece, she and Weiss actually haven’t moved yet.

Instead Weiss goes to Jaune and as eloquently as a high class girl like her would ask, “Jaune remember that time I rejected your invitation to the dance?”

“Yes and thank you oh so much for reminding me of the door slamming on me,” he deadpanned, “Twice.”

Under his breath, Clover winced, “Damn she is an ice queen.”

“What I’m trying to say is, Jaune would you like to dance?”

“No, maybe later,” Jaune’s wishful gaze moved to a certain rookie operative.

Marrow is literally a ball of sunshine. His long sleeved dress is a glowing yellow with silver sparkles. It’s almost as bright as his smile, cheekily aimed at a cooing Elm partnered with Vine’s polite nod. Harriet actually looks impressed, not attracted of course since Joanna Greenleaf is holding her hand, but definitely eyeing up her teammate.

Jaune’s own gaze is touched by wonderment as he finishes saying, “There’s someone else I want to ask.”

Seeing all of this, Weiss nods with a soft encouragement, “Of course. By the way I believe he’ll say yes.”

“I do too,” Jaune said before heading towards Marrow.

Qrow elbows Tai, breaking his staring at something too close to home. Finding love after grief is too common of a theme in their lives. While Tai said that he’s fine with his current relationship status, he certainly misses the feeling of falling in love.

Tai had told Qrow that he’s happy that Qrow is experiencing that right now.

“I’m good,” Tai quietly said, subtly whipping at his eyes.

“I know,” he returned, equally soft and steady.

Of all the things to not go her way, Weiss is also good with her rejection and without dance partner. Too bad for her, Ruby was already whisked away by Penny. Oscar doesn’t appear to make any moves to ask her or joke about it, likely put off at the risk of a door slamming.

Instead someone else took it upon himself to poke into Weiss’ mood.

“Hey Schnee, that was quite the rejection,” an Atlas student said as he adjusted his light blue tie.

“Hello Flynt,” Weiss greeted and with no hesitation goes ahead and questions, “If I ask you will it also be a no?”

“I promise I won’t slam a door in your face.”

“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds!”

Flynt’s teammate, Neon, butts in singsong-like, “It does!”

She easily pulls Oscar to the dancefloor, the poor boy stumbling just a little bit.

Rolling her eyes, Weiss offers a hand to Flynt who graciously accepts.

“So baby bird,” Clover begins, as if he’s not linking arms with and holding his hands or has all of Qrow’s heart, “Would you care to dance with me?”

“It’s about time you asked, lucky charm.”

People give them a wide berth for their path to the dancefloor, likely because of Qrow’s wingspan but there’s a quiet awe from all of them, recognizing the two as honorable heroes. It’s both flattering and scary to be noticed. Qrow hates drawing attention, good and bad, on himself but it always happens due to his appearance or status. 

Clover’s calming and loving presence takes some of that anxiety away, his steady hands holding onto Qrow to anchor him from the storms in his head.

The music picks up, rising with the singer’s words, as Qrow holds Clover close. He knows the basics of ballroom dancing from Summer’s love for it but Qrow lets go and trusts Clover to take the lead.

His hand returns to Qrow’s hip, destined to that lovely spot that fits in his hand while he holds Qrow’s other hand, lacing their fingers together. The cool metal of his rings contrast the warm feeling of their union.

Qrow lets his world become only Clover and in that same devotion, Clover marks his universe as Qrow.

The song playing in the background is, maybe by luck, perfect for the two men swaying. The main chorus has his heart swelling up.

_It’s not fair how much I love you_

_How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do_

_I’ll spend my days so close to you cause if I’m standing here maybe everyone will think I’m alright_

Raw intimacy and heart encompasses the two men, willingly succumb to the other without another word. Be it fate or luck or through the people they care about, Qrow and Clover met each other and against their insecurities or darkest thoughts, they found each other.

Qrow could recount all the small details and niches of Clover that made the lucky fisherman so utterly kind and fair and blissfully patient for Qrow’s chaotic mind.

Clover could unfold the big picture behind all of Qrow’s actions, seeing the goodness and the worrying and cleverness that can only belong to a dusty scarecrow.

Their foreheads press together, a breath separating their painted lips.

“You’re so amazing,” Clover lulls, his hands moving to lock behind the small of his back where this thumbs brush against the base of his wings. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

“I am too,” he admits, sliding his fingers to play with brown hair at Clover’s nape. “Gotta thank Marrow and James for that, the dress is definitely a motivating factor.”

“Thank them later,” said Clover, “This is all you, smiling and dancing and holding me.” A little hot breath of air hits Qrow’s neck. “Gods, you’re gorgeous in this dress.”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, I mean I did hear that skirt story from Tai but-“

“I’m going to murder him,” Qrow injected, only half meaning it.

“But,” Clover continues, “I was not prepared to actually see how it enhanced your beauty.”

Qrow hides his blushing face against a floral shoulder, “Flatter.”

“It’s the truth,” he said as if it is a law.

An agonizing and flustered sigh leaves Qrow, still burying his face because he knows Tai would be recording or taking pictures. He feels his wings flap out of pure bashful embarrassment that always comes from Clover’s compliments.

The cellos’ final notes pair with the lasting strums of the singer’s guitar, ending the song gently and tenderly. Even though it’s over, Qrow doesn’t dare to let go of Clover. He kind of likes this whole dancing thing.

Thankfully the first song is followed by another but there’s enough of a pause for someone to approach the couple.

“May I cut in here, fish stick?”

Robyn Hill offers a hand to Qrow, giving him a brief flashback to when she asked to use her semblance on him, wanting to know why Qrow trusts James. His answers of concern and needing to ground and save James from fear convinced the Happy Huntress to extending her trust.

Nicknamed after a deep-fried meal, Clover chuckles at that and turns to Qrow, tilting his head in a questioning manner. 

Qrow gives him an affirmative nod before taking Robyn’s hand. She sweeps him into the next dance.

It appears they’re not the only ones switching partners.

May is now wrapping her arms around Marrow’s shoulders. Ren is dancing with Yang since their respective girlfriends wandered off to the fish portion of the buffet, Oscar tagging along. Weiss finally has Ruby in her box step. Nearby, James has taken Willow Schnee as a dance partner and Penny’s got the eldest Schnee daughter in her jolly grasp.

As for his dance partner, Robyn holds herself with a lot of practiced and poise as she leads them into a waltz.

“I think you and Clover are good for each other,” Robyn said casually but her eyes read a deeper emotion.

A pleased smile tugs onto his face, “You’re not the only one.”

“As if anyone would not think you two are perfect for each other. Eh, Atlas men aren’t my type. Dunno what’s got you and May swooning,” she laughs. A gentle expression eases over her joy, “Thanks for taking care of him.”

Qrow bites his lip, remembering the moments where Clover needed grounding and support. A life of good luck can certainly screw a person’s reputation, devalue skill for coincidence.

“I’ll do everything I can for him,” he promises.

Robyn blinks at him, stunned and then instantly grinning, “Huh, I said something similar to Fiona.”

“That’s not too surprising.” 

She shakes her head like Qrow does not understand her meaning. “I told her that I’ll devote my heart to her.” Robyn frowns with puzzlement and shrugs, “Or something like that, I didn’t really write down my proposal, just winged it.”

To avoid thinking about her pun, Qrow stared at their held hands. A jeweled thin ring is dazzling on a finger. 

“Congrats,” he said, a familiar joy resurfacing in him. “You and Fiona are in for a wild ride as a married couple.”

“Oh, can you attest to that?” She grinned, a hint of panic that comes with the whole wedding planning.

“Ask that to my brother Tai. He’s somewhere around here.”

“You’re nieces’ dad? I’d love to hear more of their upbringing.” She smirks at him, “Also don’t think I didn’t catch you side tracking.”

“Side tracking from what, your shitty bird pun?”

“No,” she drawled out, “You and Cloves being almost as perfect as me and Fiona.”

“Comparing our relationships isn’t very noble of you, councilwoman.”

“What I’m trying to say is that,” she huffs and then drops her shoulders, “You know what? I’ll let you figure it out yourself, five o’clock shadow.”

“Hey I shaved,” he countered, still a little confused at whatever he missed.

“No one escapes my nicknames.”

That’s a threat.

Dancing with Robyn is double exhausting due to her head games so Qrow decides to get off the dancefloor. Another reason is the music genre suddenly shifting to a club beat. Someone (Yang) probably bargained Weiss for a little modernization.

So Qrow fled away from the student mop attracted to the dancefloor. Robyn remains in the middle to dance with her fiancée.

The bird faunus treats himself to sparkling cider before finding a nice spot to happily people-watch. It’s like birdwatching but with people.

“Mind if I join you?” Approaches James.

He must be equally uneager to be around people. Knowing him, he endured a lot of high class conversations or whatever. Qrow doesn’t blame him for getting away from it all.

“Go ahead, Jimmy,” Qrow gestured to where he last saw Clover, “I think I need to be mentally prepared if I join the Ops and Huntresses over there.”

It is a bit jarring to see the Ace Operatives sharing friendly chatter to the Happy Huntresses. This is certainly a step up from when they used to be at odds but Marrow was right, everything is turning out for the better.

“Agreed,” James is on a similar train of thought when he says, “The Kingdom is slowly changing, improving and cooperating.” A heavy sigh of relief gets the last bits of stress off of the general. “And maybe one day I can retire.”

Completely baffled, his wings puffed up from the news, “You, James, with a retirement plan?”

“I never gave it a thought before,” he admits, a little unsure in his tone but Qrow sees a wish in those tired blue eyes.

“Hey,” Qrow places a hand on James’ shoulder, extending a wing to reach over to the other side. “I told you before that you’ve been in this far too long, thinking that you’re alone. You fucking deserve a good life.”

James’ vulnerable, happy smile just hits Qrow in the heart. “Before, I would’ve called you a hypocrite for saying that to me.”

“Noted.”

He laughs a rumble that is more like a drum than thunder, “Nowadays, I believe you’re taking your own advice.” James regards Qrow with awed expression, “I’m really happy and proud of you, Qrow.”

Qrow returns a similar gaze and pats him, “Right back at you, Jim.”

They toast. Qrow’s cider and James’ champagne.

“So retirement,” Qrow teases, “You think the military is ready for that?”

“I hope so,” James looks to the crowd almost a searching way, “I do have a replacement in mind.”

Qrow followed his gaze to land on Marrow pressed between his dancing crushes.

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yes, but I know it’s too soon for such a responsibility.” His shoulders sink a bit, “As much as I know he has potential, that he can lead the future for Atlas, I want to give him as much time as possible to make his own choices or mistakes and go wherever he believes he needs to go.”

Qrow blinks at him, processing all the words and yeah it makes sense but there’s something he can’t help but say, “For a second there, you sound like Oz.”

“Really?” James has a small, rusty grin, “Did I nail down that omniscient vague attitude?”

“Not quite,” he rubbed his chin, deeply thinking, “You gotta add some humor too, like everything is an inside joke. Like, ‘yes I turned them into birds.’”

He nods, “And ‘I’ll place my office in a clock tower because it fits my theme.’”

“Don’t forget, ‘I’m the oldest thing in the world but don’t you dare call me ancient.’”

“Remember all those times he avoided saying his age? He came off like a cryptic beast.”

“Oh he certainly is exactly that.”

_“Ahem.”_

Both men nearly jump at the sudden appearance of Oscar Pine.

The boy raises a single, questioning brow at them. The blonde woman besides him is equally unimpressed.

“You two will never change,” she stated as a fact.

“That sounds like a good thing to me, Glynda,” Oscar smiled and there was oldness in his cadence.

“You’re too soft on them,” Glynda huffed.

“Soft?” Qrow questioned pointedly with a laugh, “James and I were lectured by this kid for being old cynical fools!”

Oscar blushed at the memory of him snapping at them. “I think it was rightfully deserved.”

“Truly,” James agreed because Oscar was the reason the general changed.

Glynda’s disapproval multiples as she crosses her arms, “I should have never left you three alone.”

They all sheepishly try to avoid her stern gaze, knowing she is absolutely right. A pattern like this is too familiar to them.

The four of them together, like a story returned to its beginning.

Yet everyone is a little different too.

Obvious observations are a nonalcoholic drink, a beard, a new set of glasses, and a child.

Yep, that’s about as normal as it gets.

Speaking of normal, the music returns back to the orchestra’s strong suits of wind and brass instruments. That gets Glynda smile wide.

The good witch holds out a hand to the tinman, “For old time’s sake, James?”

He accepts, pulling her close, “I was hoping we could make something new instead.”

Qrow wolf-whistles, effectively breaking the mood but it’s worth it to see James red face and Glynda glaring at him.

She flips him off as she drags James away.

“I don’t think I’ve seen either of them smile like that before,” Oscar awed.

“They’ve been separated longer than expected,” he explained, “Distance that do that to you.”

Hollowness is in the boy’s words, “I’m well aware.”

“…Right,” Qrow said unsurely.

With everything about Ozpin, the secrets and the fears and blaming him for things that weren’t entirely his fault, it’s still a little tense but also bearable now. Qrow and James actually missed their old friend, no matter the pain.

Then there was the strains inflicted upon Oscar, impossible responsibilities, expectations, and consequences to be an entirely different soul. It was a wonder the boy hadn’t snapped at them in the beginning.

It was near the pinnacle of disaster when Oscar broke off his polite mask to berate, scold, and yell about all of his frustrations of being the ‘next Ozpin’ and his existential crisis.

What comes after anger is tears and all Qrow and James could do was hug him.

“Yeah,” Oscar scratched his cheek, “You saw how my aunt reacted, right? I’d be grounded for life if you and James didn’t explain things to her.”

He laughed shamelessly, “She really scared the hell out of me and Jimmy.”

“Essentially, even though I did run away from home, no one ever asked if my family was looking for me.”

“That’s our bad.”

Oscar laughs loud, free of all of his past struggles. The image of his tear stricken and bruised face still haunts Qrow. Seeing the kid be happy might not take away the guilt but it certainly motivates Qrow to be better for the farm boy.

“I’m really glad I met you guys,” Oscar smiled. He side glanced to unseeingly nothing in particular, “You too Oz.”

“Is the old man getting sentimental?”

“Not as much as the one besides me,” he quipped back. Oscar got a small wing flap at his head for his efforts.

“Just for that little comment, I’m making you dance,” Qrow decided.

This turns out to be not the best idea for his feet because Oscar would accidently step on his toes. Apparently Ozpin had no muscle memory about dancing.

Thankfully Ren later saved them, taking Oscar’s place. The quiet young man had a more natural grace and balance for these types of things.

Soon there was an unspoken rotation of his kids becoming his dance partner. Weiss, Jaune, Blake, Nora, Ruby, and Yang, it was everything Qrow had wished for. It becomes even more surreal when Marrow and Penny ask for a dance.

Eventually Tai took pity on his aching feet, escorting him back to their table. The stiff fancy chairs are practically a godsend at this point.

“Gotta say,” Tai says, “your dancing’s improved.”

Qrow gulped down a flute of water, “I am no longer stumbling.”

A soft expression of pure pride is back on Tai’s face, the same way he looked when they talked about his sobriety.

“Eh,” Tai shrugged, “you still nearly tripped over Penny’s feet.”

“Of course you’d bring that up, you ass.”

“Who else is going to call you out on your bird legs?”

“I’ll have you know, people like my bird legs.”

Tai snickered, something Qrow knows he hasn’t done in a long time because of how laugh lines stretched. “Well some people are biased, your boyfriend for example.”

Apparently that was a warning, kind of unneeded since Qrow’s keen hearing acknowledges Clover behind him. Usually the idea of anyone approaching his wings triggers alarms inside his head but for Clover, Qrow feels utterly safe.

It’s not just him either, Tai’s here, the kids are having fun, and the world isn’t ending. It is about damn time Qrow and everyone else catches a break.

Clover leans over to press a kiss to his temple, mindful to the wings he is lightly presses against. Just the presence of him standing over him has the feathers puffing to get closer.

“Are you partied out, baby bird?”

“Oh no,” he groaned, laying his head against Clover’s chest, “You are not dragging me to the dance floor. Too many sweaty kids and some of them are ours.”

He expects a lighthearted joke about sweeping him off his feet.

What he gets is a surprised and hesitant Clover, reaching over to hold Qrow’s shoulders, “…Ours?”

“Yeah,” Qrow craned his neck to see those vulnerable teal eyes, “My kids plus your two, Marrow and Penny.”

Ignored, Tai mumbles around his cake fork, “They’re my kids too.”

Clover blinks a few times. There’s a shocked and humble smile on him that Qrow wants to kiss, “I um, I just never really thought them as my kid since Penny has her dad and Marrow is technically an adult…”

“Now look at whose deflecting a compliment.”

“I…,” Clover shakes his head, grinning, “Wow, Qrow, you got me.”

“Damn right I got you,” he vowed. Qrow stood up to properly loop his arms around Clover’s shoulders, “I got you right where I want you.”

Sweet, trusting surrender is Clover’s honest response, holding his crow close. Just as Qrow promised to Robyn and to the nights he spent holding the lucky fisherman, Qrow will take care of Clover because that’s exactly what Clover does too. He grounds Qrow whenever his mind flies out of control.

Wordlessly, they agreed to get out of here.

They already spent hours cherished with the people they love but now that they’re back in each other’s arm, it was time to be a little selfish.

“Typical Qrow, leaving before the party ends.”

“Yeah, yeah Tai, I’ll be home before midnight.”

“Pssh, go already, you’re too mushy.”

The loudness of the ballroom fades away as the couple makes their escape. Quiet hallways chase after the two birds, where only footsteps and wings move in a soundless rhythm of luck. There’s no destination in mind as they just cling to each other, their minds to inwards and yet conveying every emotion in their eyes.

Open doors of a balcony beacons them, the soft breeze of the night drawing their attention. The academy had preference for viewpoints what with being so high up in the sky.

“One last dance?” Clover walks them to the center, where their shadows fade in and out with the railing lamps’ lights. He pressed his lips against their hands, “Please Qrow.”

“Alright Clover, better make it count because I’m about absolutely done with these heels.”

Unlike on the dancefloor, they sway into a lazy box step. There’s no audience saved for the moon and the stars. While Clover may be holding Qrow’s waist, his wings curl around the both of them, urging them closer.

After everything with the fights and the secrets and the near constant death experiences, having a ball to really mark the end of all of that and celebrate the future wasn’t a bad idea after all.

Now to have Clover in his wings, burying his fingers into the ridiculously soft brown hair, nuzzling his face into the warm neck, Qrow actually feels at peace.

Clover starts to hum gently, the vibrations against Qrow’s lips. He doesn’t recognize the tune immediately until Clover starts singing low and quiet. All of it is a wonderment Qrow will forever embrace. It was the song from earlier in their first dance but there’s a new intimacy in Clover’s voice.

_“It’s what my heart just yearns to say in ways that can’t be said. It’s what my rotting bones will sing when the rest of me is dead.”_

Qrow lifts his head up, to match Clover’s tender gaze. He doesn’t dare let their lips meet, too entrapped in the sincerity of the song.

_“It’s what engraved upon my heart, in letters deeply worn. Today I somehow understand the reason I was born.”_

He skips some lyrics, not that Qrow will complain, too lost in the low tremors of Clover.

 _“And he holds him close just to keep the world at bay,”_ his hands do that thing again, gliding a bit up to caress the base bone of the wings, protectively and lovingly, _“And when they’re sure no one can hear them, he’ll turn to him and say…_

_“It’s not fair how much I love you.”_

The next words don’t enter Qrow’s head, too glued onto that declaration. His breath is caught, desperately needing to breathe in the feeling of Clover’s love. The best he can convey his trembling, shivering need is to cradle Clover’s face and brush away the cold.

A small hitch in his voice interrupts the song but Clover keeps on going, wanting to sing this, _“I’ve seen enough, I know exactly what I want and it’s this life we’ve created. Inundated with the fated thought of you and if you asked me to, I would lose it all…_

_“Like petals in a storm, cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades at night when light is fading.”_

That line perfectly describes their slow nights, too tired to talk and simply rest their bones on each other, knowing the other is still waking as the dawn approaches.

 _“Dear heart it’s me, it’s me. You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not,”_ Clover trembles underneath Qrow’s hands because this part hits home.

Qrow’s the one to tell Clover he doesn’t need to pretend to be perfect or alright. The title of golden boy or lucky comes with its own burdens of high expectations or constantly wearing a brave face.

To anchor him, Qrow presses their foreheads together. The tips of his wings stretched over to brush against Clover’s back.

Cradled by all his gentle touch, Clover has a wobbly smile, teary eyed, _“It’s not fair. It's not fair how much I love you. It’s not fair cause you make me ache you bastard.”_

Instinctively, the faunus laughs and brushes his painted lips to the corner of Clover’s.

_“Oh how, oh how unreasonable. How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do. I’ll spend my days so close to you cause if I’m stood here then I’m stood here…_

_“And I’ll stand here. I’ll stand here with you.”_

They continue swaying to the finished song, busy with exchanging the sweetness it left between them. To hold and to kiss the other are the actions of those lovely song.

It’s a real shame that Qrow doesn’t know the song but he’ll take Clover’s version over the original any day. They hold each other a little longer in the comforting silence, just the two of them in the world.

As quiet as the soft wind, as light as their kisses, Qrow asks, “Hey Clover?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

Despite the lyrics, it does feel fair for Qrow and Clover to love each other so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey, this ended up being a songfic in disguised idk other than my love for Fair by The Amazing Devil
> 
> i added so many last minute cameos that i just needed to write bc i kind of miss glynda and tai
> 
> anyway THANKS FOR READING!


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